The 74th Hunger Games: Cato's Story
by Celeste Russo
Summary: The 74th Hunger Games from Cato's perspective. I may add a bit of Clato (Clove/Cato) into it further down the track. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

There is only one proper way to be a smart ass: be a self-righteous, cocky, and seriously strong and muscly bad ass. Yeah, it sounds up-tight, but if you want things to go your way, you need to play the part.

For me, playing the part is easy. Training to kill is easy too. I like to think I'm a natural. Yeah, there's yet another hint of my cockiness. I can't help that I'm a confident guy.

I train for a good few hours each day at the District 2 Training Academy. I've spent most of my life training, fighting, preparing for the Games. Each year, I stood in the District square watching people fight over who the volunteers were going to be for each Games. As much as it killed me, I stayed silent and didn't budge. I knew my day would come soon and I knew I was ready. I just had to be patient and wait a little longer.

I had turned 18 by the time the 74th Games rolled around, and I was fully determined to be reaped, and even more eager to volunteer. I rocked up to the reaping in the most confident mood I had ever been in at a reaping before, but that was mostly because all the other years I was making myself a bystander, hiding my true determination to go into that arena and show Panem what I've got.

I get my blood taken at the registry and head straight over to the roped-off area where the 18 year old males were. I stand among them tall and proud, my chin held high and a menacing smirk on my face. These bastards weren't going to get the chance to even hear the reaped male tributes name, because they'd be hearing me being the chosen volunteer.

The escort – a woman who was completely dressed in green – walks on stage and stands at the microphone, starting her speech. She drones on and on in her pathetic Capitol accent. It makes me want to gag just so I can throw her off, but one of the guys yells out before I decide to do anything.

"Fucking hell! Just call the tributes already, for shit's sake!"

The escort huffs at him, clearly insulted and terribly offended, then stalks over to the girls lottery ball. I smirk when she digs her hand into the name slips. Whichever chick was chosen to go into the arena with me was going to be a piece of cake to eliminate. Girls were typically weaker than guys – especially me. They might as well just cancel this year's Games, because I was going to be Victor.

She picks a name slip out from the bottom of the over-flowing lottery bowl and headed back to the microphone stand. As soon as she starts to open it, I hear an all too familiar voice call out.

"I volunteer!"

Everyone cranes their necks to look in the direction of the girl volunteer, and I bite my lip when the voice matches her face. She strides up to the stage with the confident attitude she always had; the one I had always admired, and yes, I also found it seriously hot and attractive.

She stands proudly with a smirk on her face next to our pathetic escort, who reaches over with the microphone to her, asking for the tributes name.

"What's your name, Dear?" the escort asks in her distasteful accent.

"Clove. Clove Holland." she sneered.

The escort beamed a large smile with her overly whitened teeth. As she headed over to the bowl containing the names of the boys, I felt my stomach churn. I wasn't nervous, no. I didn't feel nerves. I was too confident and brave for that kind of shit. But this feeling in my gut wasn't normal behaviour for me.

The escort pulled a slip out of the lottery bowl and before she even blinked, I barged through the crowd and called out.

"I VOLUNTEER!"

I make my way towards the stage but stop when I hear idiotic Justin Stanley try to take claims of the male tribute place.

"Hey! Cato!" he yelled as he broke through the crowd and stormed up to me. "I had claims on volunteering these Games. I warned you not to–"

I broke him off with a punch to his nose and let him fall unconscious to the ground. I glare down at him. No one messes with me.

"I warned you to not mess with me." I finish for him and turn back to the stage, wiping my bloodied hand on my white dress shirt.

I go stand beside Clove, staring out at the crowd in complete focus. I could feel Clove's eyes on me.

"The Games haven't started yet, and there's already a show!" the escort beamed. "What's your name, Love?"

I look over at Clove as I answer her. "Cato Anderson."

The escort smiled broadly and turned to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, District 2's tributes for the 74th Annual Hunter Games! Cato Anderson and Clove Holland!"

The crowd cheered and applauded loudly. As per usual, this crowd was expecting a Victor yet again this year. Lucky for them, we were the perfect tributes for that job. This year, District 2 was going to have another Victor. I would make sure of it. But for the first time in my life, I had a change of thought and emotion. I had a new goal.

I was going to get Clove home and crowned Victor. And I wasn't going to take no for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the reaping concluded, Peacekeepers escorted us through the large doors of the Justice building and into individual rooms. Once inside and the Peacekeepers shut the door behind them after exiting quite abruptly, I turned the door handle, and, to no surprise, I found it locked. Taking extra caution in case we tributes wanted to make an escape? I doubted there would be any need for that, considering we both volunteered. But then again, District two always had volunteers.

I let go of the handle and sigh loudly, walking around the room, lazily clapping my hands as I go. Everyone else in District two would either be heading down to the train station now to watch when the tribute train takes off, or waiting around in the Square. I yawn, bored, and crack my knuckles as I hear the door open.

The man who walked through the door was my father, followed by my mother and older brother, Alex. My brother was a Victor, going back a few years to the 68th Hunger Games. He was seventeen when he won; a year younger than what I am now. Having been the only one in our immediate family to have gone into the Games, he knew exactly what it was like to be in there. And he believed I could manage.

'You ready for your moment of fame, little bro?' Alex said as he clapped me on the shoulder.

The corner of my mouth lifted into a half smirk. 'You know I am.'

He chuckled happily and patted me on the back several times. 'That's what I like to hear.'

I chuckle and shove him like we usually did when we messed around. I hear my father clear his throat and I turn my attention to him like I was disciplined to at home, dropping my arms to my sides and going silent, showing him that he had my full attention. 'Dad.'

He took a step toward me, never breaking his gaze away from me. We were the same height, so we were at eye level. It was an advantage on my behalf since it made my father less intimidating.

'Make sure you remember what you are going into the Games for.' He said blandly.

I raise my chin, holding my head high so I appeared taller than him and not in the least intimidated. 'I won't lose track of my goal. I haven't for the past eighteen years, and I never will.' I told him confidently.

My father eyed me carefully, furrowing his brow as he did so. He had piercing blue eyes like me, though I got my blonde hair from my mother. He eyeed me for a moment longer, analysing my hard expression and my body language. Once he was content with himself, he said 'Don't do anything stupid. Make District two proud. Bring us home a Victor.'

I don't move. I just send him a blank expression back. 'I plan to.'

With that, and clearly feeling satisfied with himself, he gave me a slight nod of his head and made his way out of the room, leaving myself, my brother and mother.

Alex stood to the side as our mother threw her arms around me. She started fussing over my clothes and hair. I gently grabbed her wrists and told her to stop smothering me.

'You be careful out there, Cato dear, alright? You take care of yourself. Don't let anyone hurt you. I don't want my boy going anywhere but back home after these Games, understand?'

'Yes, mum. I understand.' I said. That was the full truth. I completely understood what I had to do. 'I'm coming back. Don't you worry about that.' That was partially a lie. Though that depended on whether Clove made it to the finale with me or not. If she didn't, I was going to bring home the crown. If it were down to the two of us…well. She would be the one returning home.


End file.
